Two Psychos
by The Disposable Villain
Summary: Marik and Bakura are two wild cards for armies that are enemies of China, so why are they placed in the same cell? Psychoshipping.


_DD: If there's any inaccurate information here, please let me know._

* * *

From the first time he entered the cell until now, Marik had been alone. He liked it that way. There were no annoying roommates to bother him, no one to have to throttle in their sleep, no one to have to pull off the top bunk when they try to claim it… No one to talk to.

Everyone knew that he was a prisoner of war. Everyone knew that he was one of the wild card Japan had played.

The Japanese army had been struggling to defeat the invading Chinese battalion, so they had put Marik on the front line, even though they knew the consequences.

In a fight, Marik was better fighting alone than with a hundred allies. When he got excited or angry, he forgot how to distinguish friend from foe. Everyone in his path was killed.

Until he ran out of ammunition. And even then, he had his dagger.

Until it broke. That was when Marik knew he was in trouble. Even without weapons, he fought as long as he could, his tanned muscles making it easier for him than many would have found it. But even with his strength, he was captured and as he was shoved into the plane that would transport him to a Chinese prison, he was smirking.

China had lost that battle, and they knew it.

But Japan had also lost. The only winner was Marik.

Or at least, until he had to share a cell. He looked down at the boy who had entered the cell from the top bunk. "Who are you?"

The boy looked up at him. Even though it was hard to  
tell that he older than seventeen, what with his petite stature, it _was_ still illegal to enrol in the army if one was underage. But the boy didn't have the battle scars of someone long in the army, so Marik guessed that he was between eighteen and nineteen – his own age.

The boy raised an eyebrow. It was clear that he was foreign from his white hair and pale skin. He folded his arms and continued to look at Marik in silence. Marik narrowed his eyes. "Answer me, _gaijin*_."

"Why should I?" The boy asked in fluent Japanese. "You haven't given me your name so I see no reason why I should give you mine."

Marik bristled at the _gaijin's_ impertinence. Yet he noticed that the boy spoke in perfect Japanese with the understanding of the custom of not asking for one's name without giving one's own first. Marik gritted his teeth together. He had two options; answer as a true Japanese person even though he originated from Egypt or not respond and lose face. "Marik Ishtar. There, happy?" He muttered with a grudging tone. "Now what's your name?"

The _gaijin_ had the nerve to smirk, thinking that he had won. "Bakura Touzoku."

Marik tilted his head. "The British army's wild card, eh?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, _gaijin_." Marik looked up at the ceiling, hands behind his wild mane of platinum blonde hair.

"Stop calling me _gaijin._ I can tell you're foreign too." Bakura narrowed his rusty brown eyes.

"Your point is?"

"Just knock it off," Bakura growled, stalking towards the bottom bunk. Marik smirked, thinking he had won. Silence reigned over them again. It stayed like that for several days before the two caved and began to talk.

Bakura was similar to Marik in many ways. He too was better off fighting alone than with allies. He too was bloodthirsty. He too forgot the difference between friend and foe in the midst of battle.

His country also bore grudges against China, but for different reasons.

China had nationalised all British interests in Hong Kong, expelled outspoken British citizens, arrest hundreds of others, set up internment camps and stripped all British citizens of passports.

When British citizens had organised peace and pro-democracy rallies in Hong Kong, the British government had supported them. However, the Chinese government had come down hard on them, and Britain had admonished them for it publicly by having the British foreign secretary state, "The Chinese government pretends to hate capitalism, but they let Britain build Hong Kong and then took it from Britain and tried to pretend that it was Chinese. Hong Kong was built by the British, made a success by the British, and is and always will be intrinsically British."

However China and Japan had been enemies for a long time. Japan, once feudal, was now champion of democracy in the area and one that would not stand idly by while China flexed her muscles, especially given the spats over the Senkaku, Daioyu and Taioyutai islands. Japan felt her borders, her territories and her sovereignty were being threatened by China's claims over islands that Japan saw as historically and rightfully hers.

Marik and Bakura bore no grudges towards each other. While Britain and Japan had been on opposite sides during World War II, they now shared a common enemy.

Even if Britain and Japan were on opposing sides now, Bakura and Marik would have no difficulties with one another unless they met on the battlefield. They each respected the other's strength and what they had been through.

The same could not be said for the other prisoners. There was no love lost between them. The prisoners feared Marik and Bakura, and Marik and Bakura despised them for their weakness.

Although the guards were keeping them imprisoned, as long as they were given meals and left alone, they wouldn't bother the guards. They were just doing their job, and Marik and Bakura understood that.

They also understood that the guards feared them just as much as the prisoners did. No one knew why Bakura and Marik had been placed in the same cell.

Some thought that the guards hoped they would kill one another and had been too afraid of a breakout to move them.

Others believed that Bakura and Marik were bribing the guards to keep them in the same cell.

The romantic prisoners even believed that Marik and Bakura were in a relationship and the guards had 'found it in their hearts to keep the two lovers united'. Not that they had any proof for this theory, for Marik and Bakura's cell was in a separate hallway lest they did manage to escape and go on rampage.

Although the two wild cards were in a relationship – a very dysfunctional one at that, for they did fight for entertainment twice daily – this wasn't the reason either.

The true reason was revealed two months after Bakura was imprisoned with Marik; when the prison caught fire.

Marik looked over at Bakura – who was leaning against the wall. "How much longer until the flames reach here?" His tone was lax, unconcerned.

Bakura glanced out the barred window. "I'd say…five minutes."

Marik nodded and jumped down from the top bunk. "I guess they 'forgot' to unlock us."

Bakura nodded in agreement, closing his eyes. "What a pity." His uncaring tone contradicted his words.

Marik looked over at him. "So you do want to die."

"I want to be free again," Bakura contradicted. He looked outside again. "Three minutes."

Marik smirked and met Bakura's gaze. "How about we make them count?"

Bakura mimicked his smirk. "Sounds good."

The next day, while picking through the remains of the prison, the fire-fighters found what they assumed to be the charred remains of Bakura and Marik, although they couldn't help but wonder why when the room had two occupants there weren't even enough remains for a single human. They chalked it up to the theory that the flames had been hot enough to disintegrate their bones.

* * *

At their funeral, their brothers Ryou and Malik said with tear-streaked cheeks and shaky smiles that Bakura and Marik were "two psychos that had fought until the end".

No one seemed to notice the two adolescents in the back of the temple wearing matching, dark hoods throughout the ceremony. The two figures stayed seated until everyone but Malik and Ryou had left the temple after the funeral.

Then, in unison, they stood and made their way over to the two grieving brothers.

"So… you're Bakura Touzoku's brother?" One of the hooded figures queried in a rough voice.

Ryou blinked and nodded, tear streaks running down his cheeks. "Y-yes. Thank you for coming today."

He was ignored. The second figure looked at Malik. "Then you must be Marik Ishtar's brother." Malik nodded as well. The hooded figures exchanged a glance before bowing.

"We're sorry for your loss."

"Thank you…" Ryou whispered again.

Malik frowned. "Who are you anyway?"

"You ask us for our names without giving your own?" The second figure asked.

"You know my name." Malik narrowed his eyes. "So who are you?"

"That's none of your concern." The first figure flashed Malik a grin before they turned to leave.

Malik and Ryou watched in silence as the two figures made their way towards the door of the temple. When they opened the door, a large gust of wind blew their hoods back.

The duo saw a flash of white hair akin to Ryou's and a mane of platinum blonde hair before the two figures pulled their hoods on again and left.

Ryou and Malik exchanged a look before pelting after them. When they got outside, the figures had already left and the two were left alone with the cold bitterness of the howling wind.

* * *

 _DD: Please review and let me know if you want a sequel! And gaijin is a derogatory term for a foreigner in Japan. It means 'foreign devil'._


End file.
